


To Have and to Hold

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: the braveryverse [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Wedding Fluff, just a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 04:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18933496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: They’d agreed, beforehand, to walk down the aisle together. Thankfully, he had enough presence of mind to extend his arm to her, and when she tucked her small, elegant hand into the crook of his elbow, it feltright.(Giles and Jenny tie the knot.)





	To Have and to Hold

Her wedding was in nine hours, her fiancé had spent the last two days planning an adorably low-key outdoor celebration, and Jenny Calendar was rappelling down the side of City Hall at two in the morning because _some_ idiot Watcher that she didn’t even _like_ had gotten himself kidnapped. Once this was resolved, Jenny thought, she was going to _murder_ Wesley herself, because right now she was supposed to be _asleep_ in her soon-to-be-marital bed and enjoying her last day of bachelorette life.

But _noooo._ Obviously good things couldn’t happen to _her. Obviously_ she had to get a call that Wesley was being held for _ransom_ at the Mayor’s office—and incidentally, the fact that it was the _mayor of Sunnydale_ who was trying to turn into a giant snake demon? Jenny really hadn’t seen that coming.

The situation had been fairly cut-and-dry up until that phone call. A few weeks ago, Deputy Mayor Allan Finch had come to them and covertly told them about the Mayor’s, um, _aspirations_. Soon after that, Buffy and Faith had been out on patrol when they’d come across a demon offering up the Books of Ascension. Faith had brought this news back to Rupert, Rupert had done some fairly adorable nerding out, and Wesley had forked over the Council cash for the books— _after_ Jenny had sweet-talked Anya into sweet-talking Wesley. _That_ part had been a little bit more convoluted, but the Books of Ascension had been well worth the trouble. Not only did they detail literally every step needed for the Mayor to ascend—every ritual, every deal made to a demon, _everything_ —but they also laid out all the different possible ways to kill the Mayor, both before and after he’d ascended.

Jenny had sort of been assuming that they’d had this one in the bag, but _clearly_ that had been an oversight on her part. About thirty minutes ago, she’d gotten a call from the Mayor regarding Wesley’s whereabouts: he’d been nabbed on his way home from a late-night research session, and he was getting killed at sunrise if those books weren’t in the Mayor’s hands.

Jenny wasn’t a saint. Her first immediate thought had been _so what?_ Wesley had been a vaguely annoying thorn in their side for a few weeks now, and after Travers had kidnapped her husband-to-be, she wasn’t exactly the Council’s number one fan. But as she’d been mulling the issue over, she’d thought (as she often did) _what would Rupert do?_ She’d thought, a little disparagingly, that Rupert might parrot the _dying-for-the-cause_ Council rhetoric, simply because he’d spent years being indoctrinated into their mission.

And _that_ had been when it had hit her: Wesley was in _the exact same position._ He’d spent _years_ being raised to train a Slayer, told that his own wants and needs were irrelevant—and he’d bought into it, hook, line, and sinker, with the same hungry desperation that Jenny had once seen in Rupert. He was deluded, sure, coming in and trying to impose his authority on Jenny’s girls—but Rupert had done the same thing with Buffy, years ago. It hadn’t _worked,_ and Rupert had _changed—_ and who was Jenny to pick and choose which people she saved from a shitty institution? Wesley was barely out of his teens. Letting him die for the cause wasn’t _right._

Doing the right thing, Jenny thought, as she landed carefully on a window ledge, absolutely sucked. She knocked on the glass, and the Mayor opened the window, extending a hand to help her inside.

Jenny gave his hand a doubtful look.

“Ms. Calendar,” said the Mayor politely, “though we’re on opposite sides of this battle, this is a _negotiation._ I’m not Angelus. I have manners.” He let his hand drop, stepping back. “I’m happy to respect your wishes, though, if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow, but clambered into the Mayor’s office.

Wesley was tied to a chair, gagged, an angry purple bruise at his temple. Two other people were standing in the room: a tall, well-dressed vampire that Jenny didn’t know, and the Deputy Mayor, who (being a double agent and all that) looked extremely on edge about the whole affair. Jenny could relate. “D-do you have the books?” he stammered.

“Allan, please,” said the Mayor. “Let’s try and make this a more civil affair.” He smiled at Jenny, looking disturbingly _normal._ The concept of this guy making deals with baby-eating demons in his free time all but broke Jenny’s brain. “Word on the street is your wedding’s today, Ms. Calendar!” he said. “Or will it be Mrs. Giles?”

“Calendar-Giles,” said Jenny. “We’re hyphenating.”

“How nontraditional,” said the Mayor thoughtfully.

“Look, I’m kind of on a time crunch,” said Jenny, putting the satchel down on the table. “My wedding’s really soon, and I was _hoping_ I’d be better rested for it than this. You said you needed the Books of Ascension—”

“—and any notes you may have taken on it, yes,” said the Mayor, eyes glittering with something slightly frightening.

Jenny dug in the satchel, setting the Books on the table, placing Rupert’s notebook on top of them, and feeling a deep sense of guilt. She knew that the right thing to do would have been to confer with Rupert, and she _hated_ the thought of starting their wedding day by going behind his back. But when she had gotten that call about a kidnapped Watcher, _all_ she had been able to think about was Rupert, snatched from the street and tied up in a broken-down boardinghouse. Rupert was still having nightmares even _now_ —she couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like for Wesley, who had _every_ reason to believe that no one would come to save him.

“You’re an honorable woman, Jenny,” said the Mayor simply.

Jenny raised her head to look at him. There was sincerity in his eyes. “You’re one of the more terrifying monsters I’ve seen,” she said. “It’s going to feel really good to kill you.”

The Mayor smiled, that politely amused politician’s smile. “Oh,” he said, “you won’t be killing _me—_ ”

“Not _yet,_ ” said Jenny, stepping up to him. She made no move to hurt him, but she kept her eyes locked on his. “I’m Jenny fucking Calendar,” she said. “I faced Angelus _twice_ and lived to tell the tale. I was tortured by Drusilla and didn’t break, I brought back the long-lost magic of my ancestors, and you think I won’t be killing you?” She smiled, sharp and angry. “Think again.”

The Mayor took this in. “Good talk,” he said finally, and patted Jenny’s shoulder. “I hope I’ll have your vote next election season. Granted, this town will probably be an apocalyptic wasteland by then, so the electoral system—” He shrugged. “Well, that thing was already rigged. Allan, would you untie our other guest and see them both out?”

The Deputy Mayor, still doing his best not to look at Jenny, hurried to do so.

“I really do look forward to killing you,” said Jenny, and stuck out her hand. She could play his game.

The Mayor shook her hand. “Here’s a politician’s tip,” he said. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

* * *

 

Wesley didn’t know what to think. Or what to say, for that matter. The only thought bouncing around in his head was _I shouldn’t be alive._ Jenny Calendar had made her dislike of him _no_ secret; she didn’t seem able to go thirty seconds without insulting him or the Council. He had been steeling himself for his death, comforting himself with the knowledge that at least the Mayor’s Ascension wouldn’t go as planned—and Jenny Calendar had given up the only leverage they had. To save _him._

Jenny didn’t seem interested in talking to him. As the Deputy Mayor unlocked the door, she pushed past him, and for some reason, this was what made Wesley finally snap.

“You are a _complete_ idiot!” he shouted, his words echoing around the empty street. Jenny turned, dark eyes bright with lingering anger, _just_ as terrifying as she had been facing down the Mayor in that room, and this incensed Wesley _further._ “Those books cost a _fortune!_ They are _irreplaceable!_ They were the _only thing_ standing between the Mayor and his _complete destruction_ of Sunnydale, and you _happily handed them over_ for _no good reason!_ You don’t even _like_ me, I _know_ you don’t—”

“Wesley?” said Jenny, voice sugary-sharp. “You could at least pretend to be grateful.”

“My life is worth _nothing_ in comparison to—”

Jenny stepped forward, gripping his shoulder very tightly. “The man I love was fucked over by the Council,” she said. “He poured his heart and his soul into his work, and they told him that he was supposed to spend the rest of his life loving _nothing._ Not his job, not his Slayer, not his girlfriend—he was supposed to be impartial and emotionless, and it was _killing him._ ”

Wesley hadn’t heard this side of the story before. All he had heard was _Rupert Giles was irresponsible, heedless, careless, and you must not follow in his footsteps,_ but the intensity in Jenny’s eyes spoke of a deeper, more terrifying truth. “Emotional attachments are dangerous in our line of work, Ms. Calendar,” he said, stiffly and reflexively. “The Council was right to cast him aside if he placed his heart before the fate of the world, and _you_ were wrong to trade _thousands_ of lives for my own. What happens if we are unable to stop the Ascension?”

Jenny swallowed, eyes wet and bright. “See, Wesley, that’s the thing,” she said. “The Council doesn’t have to make the tough calls. They can look at these situations and say it’s simple addition and subtraction—you’re one person, the Ascension would kill thousands. But I say that we don’t—we shouldn’t have to live like that.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Wesley shot back. “We have _nothing_ to help us against the Ascension!”

“Wesley, what do you want me to say right now?” said Jenny, her voice breaking. “That letting you die would have been the right call? That letting someone die _alone_ for the _greater good_ is what _has to happen?_ The books are _gone._ They’re _not an option._ Frankly, they _wouldn’t_ have been an option if that demon hadn’t crossed our path, and they _still_ helped us learn a hell of a lot about the Ascension while we _had them,_ so—so this _isn’t_ a loss, okay? This isn’t—”

And she began to cry.

Wesley stared. From the very moment he had met Jenny Calendar, he had been _convinced_ that the woman didn’t care _half_ as much about the world as she should. He couldn’t fathom that someone who _cared_ wouldn’t be _careful,_ weighing the odds and considering every variable before making their informed decision. But here was Jenny, crying, because she had been _afraid,_ and she had wanted to save a life instead of snuff one out through inaction. She hadn’t thought of the books—of course she hadn’t. She’d thought of _his_ life—of a man she didn’t even really like all that much.

He felt rather awful, all of a sudden.

“Um,” he said, and rummaged in his pocket, bringing out his handkerchief. “Well. It’s not—it’s not all that bad.”

“It _is,”_ Jenny wailed. “Oh my _god,_ I’m so _stupid!_ I should have just—god, of _course_ he’d call me first, if he knows I’m getting married he _must_ have known about Rupert getting his throat cut—”

Wesley stepped forward, awkwardly dabbing at Jenny’s face. She sniffled, then laughed, staring at him with a sort of bemused affection. “I wish I had your faith,” he said quietly. “I’ve heard a thousand and one stories about battles going wrong. It really would have been safer to let me die—”

“I just want to find a way to save everyone I can,” said Jenny, taking the handkerchief with a small, sad smile. “And that does include you, Wesley.”

“Why?”

Jenny was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You remind me a little bit of Rupert, you know that? He came in thinking he was in charge, and he was all prepared to boss Buffy around.” She grinned a little. “But she started bossing him around instead.”

 _“Well,_ I don’t intend to take orders from—”

“Don’t ruin this,” said Jenny, wiping a stray tear off her face, then handing the handkerchief back to Wesley. “My point is that a good leader _listens_ to other people.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “You came here without consulting _anyone,_ ” he said.

Jenny bit her lip. “I don’t want to say it was a mistake,” she said. “I don’t think saving someone’s life ever _could_ be. I think Rupert’s going to be really pissed, and the kids are going to be angry, but I can take that.” Her voice shook, though, in a way that suggested she really couldn’t.

Wesley hesitated, then reached out and sort of awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You _did_ save my life,” he said quietly. “And I think I rather like being alive, all things considered. Perhaps I don’t agree with your methods, but I don’t think I’ll be contesting your future husband’s authority any further.”

Jenny gave him a small, wobbly smile.

* * *

They got back home to find the lights on, and when Jenny opened the door, she was met with a positively _frantic_ Rupert. “The children called Buffy’s and said your room was empty, I know this goes against _all_ don’t-see-the-bride tradition and I know we agreed I’d be staying with Buffy and Joyce but Jenny what on _earth_ were you doing out at night—” he stammered, hugging her tightly to him.

“What the fuck is _Wesley_ doing here?” said Faith very loudly.

Rupert pulled back, looking at Jenny with wide, concerned eyes. Jenny looked up, and saw _so_ much love and trust in the way he was studying her. “Darling, what on earth _were_ you doing?” he asked, much calmer now that he was certain she was okay.

Jenny opened her mouth—

“She was saving my life,” said Wesley. He stepped forward, looking surprisingly repentant. “I stayed late to research and put myself in a dangerous situation,” he said. “Got myself kidnapped, as a matter of fact. The Mayor called your Ms. Calendar and requested the Books of Ascension in return for my, ah, _not_ being brutally slaughtered at sunrise.”

“Rupert, I’m so sorry,” said Jenny in a small voice. “I know it wasn’t tactically sound, and I _know_ those books are irreplaceable, but I-I just kept on thinking about—”

“Me,” said Rupert.

Jenny blinked. “How did you know?”

“We’re getting married, my love, I like to think I know you _a bit,”_ said Rupert, giving her a small, gentle smile. “You getting called about a kidnapped Watcher so soon after that incident with Kralik…” He trailed off, taking her hands in his, then looked tentatively over his shoulder at the children. “I hope you all understand why Jenny did this?” he said.

Jenny almost didn’t dare to look at her kids, but knew she had to—and felt a sudden, heady _rush_ at the looks on their faces. All of them looked a little sad, a little concerned, but _all_ of them also had that tired, resigned understanding that Jenny had felt upon hearing the Mayor’s call.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, I thought—you’d be mad—”

“Well, it does kinda suck that we don’t have the books anymore,” said Faith, “but don’t you always say that we should try to help as many people as we can?”

“And Wesley’s literally the most annoying person on earth, but he’s still a _person,_ ” Xander agreed.

“Plus, I read those books from cover to cover,” Willow added. “I don’t remember _everything,_ but I remember _enough_ to know what will and won’t work to kill the Mayor. It’s not like we’re back to square one!” She considered. “Maybe square two. Which still isn’t _great,_ but—”

Jenny let out a relieved, sobbing breath, cuddling into Rupert’s arms. “Oh, _Jenny,_ ” he said shakily, finally gathering the full gist of the situation. “Did you think we would turn you away again?”

“I don’t know!” Jenny said a little tearfully. “I just—I thought maybe you’d all be mad, I went over _all_ of your heads—”

“Jenny?” said Buffy timidly.

 _All_ eyes turned to Buffy, Jenny’s included. Buffy was the only one of the kids who had still been calling Jenny _Ms. Calendar,_ so to hear her say _Jenny_ now—

“You made a dumb call, not talking to us about this, but we all know why you did it,” said Buffy, stepping forward to rest a tentative hand on Jenny’s elbow. “And even if we _didn’t,_ we all still care enough to _ask,_ this time around. We _love_ you.” She squeezed a stunned Jenny’s elbow. “And today’s supposed to be a _happy_ day, anyway,” she quipped with a nervous laugh. “So maybe let’s not all cry over spilled milk—or, um, lost Ascension books—”

“About that,” said Rupert suddenly.

“Giles, just lay off her for a little bit, okay?” said Buffy firmly. “We can talk about this _after_ you guys have the best wedding ever.”

“No, um,” Rupert cleared his throat a little awkwardly, “you—you said the Mayor requested the Books of Ascension?”

Jenny bit her lip, looking down. “And your notes,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Rupert, I had to—”

Rupert grinned. “Buffy, I don’t think there’s any need to cry about anything at all,” he said. “In fact, I think this whole affair has worked out _perfectly._ ”

“Mr. Giles, I understand the need to comfort your fiancée,” Wesley began uncomfortably, “but I think _perfectly_ is a bit of a stretch. We’ve lost our only leverage—”

“The Mayor,” said Rupert, “is under the impression that we have absolutely no copies of the Books of Ascension, yes?”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, “because we have _absolutely no copies of the Books of Ascension.”_

“Think again, my _dearest_ love,” said Rupert, who was now grinning _furiously._

“Care to share with the class, Giles?” said Xander.

“Yeah, I wanna go back to _bed,_ ” said Faith waspishly.

Rupert’s grin didn’t falter. “I suppose this will spoil your wedding present a bit,” he said. “Give me a moment.” Letting go of Jenny, he hurried out of the room.

“Okay,” said Xander. “If someone had told me that _that_ was how Giles would react to us losing the Books of Ascension, I’d have told them they were straight-up nuts.”

Rupert re-entered with a small, thin, neatly wrapped package, pressing it into Jenny’s hands. “Don’t unwrap it _just_ yet,” he said. “This deserves a bit of background, and I really do want you to open it _after_ we’re married.”

“Is it condoms?” said Xander.

“Nah,” said Faith. “They _definitely_ haven’t been waiting ‘till marriage.”

As Xander high-fived Faith, Rupert let out a reproving little huff and rolled his eyes. Given that he was still practically _glowing_ with happiness, it didn’t really convey much severity. “I scanned the entirety of the Books of Ascension onto Jenny’s computer,” he said, “and saved it to that disk. And, um, a few other disks. This one’s really just symbolic.”

The room went _entirely_ silent.

“Wait,” said Buffy. _“Wait._ Giles, you—those books are like two thousand pages!”

“Yes, well, I,” Rupert made a face, “I _may_ have spent all that time I _said_ I was planning this wedding—um, learning how to scan books. In Jenny’s computer lab. Cordelia’s the one who did all the wedding planning.”

 _“Cordy’s_ in on this?” said Xander. “My _girlfriend_ conspired with _Giles_ to do _extra work?”_ He swayed theatrically on his feet. “Faith, catch me, I might faint—”

Jenny stared at him, mouth half-open.

“I thought it would be—” Rupert gave her a small, shy smile. “Romantic,” he said. “They’re the only books of their kind, and you’re always so passionate about the protection and preservation of knowledge—what better way to start off our marriage than me learning how to use a computer?”

Kissing him didn’t seem _enough,_ Jenny thought, and reached up to press her hands to his chest. She gave him a small, wobbly smile. “You’re really knocking me out of the park lately,” she said. “First the flowers, and now _this?_ Give a girl some _warning,_ Rupert.”

“So we’re _fine,_ ” said Willow disbelievingly. “We have literally _everything_ we need to defeat the Mayor, _and_ he’s never going to see it coming?”

“Mr. Giles,” said Wesley admiringly, “I _thoroughly_ underestimated you.”

“We can have as many kids as you want,” Jenny informed Rupert. “And I’m taking your name. And—”

Rupert bit his lip, grinning, said, “Jenny, we already agreed that the talk regarding children comes _much_ later, and I am _absolutely_ still going to be Mr. Calendar-Giles,” and kissed her very tenderly.

“ _Mr._ Calendar?” said Buffy. “That sounds weird.”

“Are we going to have to call Giles _Calendar_ -Giles now?” Xander added. “ _That_ sounds weird.”

Jenny and Rupert pulled apart. “You know you all _could_ just call him Rupert?” Jenny suggested. “You’re old enough to—”

“ _NO,_ ” said Rupert and the children at the same time.

“Fair enough,” Jenny conceded.

 _“I’m_ gonna call him Mr. Calendar,” Faith announced.

“I’m sticking with Giles,” said Buffy wryly.

Jenny sniffled, grinning up at Rupert. “You’re amazing,” she said.

“ _Well,”_ said Rupert, “this really is just me following in your incredible footsteps. In nine hours, I’m going to be married to the woman who gave a vampire back his soul.”

“Oh my _god,_ ” said Jenny. “Oh my god, _why_ are we all awake? We all need to be _rested!_ Everybody go to bed  _literally right now—_ ”

“Um, Giles and I have to go back to my mom,” said Buffy. “Wedding tradition says the bride and groom can’t see each other, remember?”

“After _that_ wedding present?” said Jenny. “I refuse to do anything other than sleep with Rupert.”

“Jenny,” said Rupert, turning pink, “that rather implies—”

 _“Gosh, I think it does,”_ said Jenny, and pulled him upstairs.

* * *

Jenny woke up nestled in Rupert’s arms, both of them tangled in the bedsheets. Her almost-husband was awake, gazing down at her with soft, sleepy eyes like she was the eighth wonder of the world. “Hi,” he murmured.

“Hey,” Jenny whispered, and tilted her head up so he could kiss her. This wonderful, incredible marvel of a man, whose love for her might just have saved an entire goddamn _town._ “Any second thoughts?”

“Don’t even joke about that,” said Rupert softly, rubbing his nose against hers. He smiled, self-deprecating. “You?”

Jenny scoffed, taking his face in her hands. “You’re my guy,” she said. “For better or for worse.”

“Oh, are we exchanging vows _now?”_

Before Jenny could respond, there was a hammering on their bedroom door. Without waiting for an answer, Cordelia _burst_ in, impeccably made up and wearing a fluffy purple dress that made her look a little like a cupcake. “ _What_ are you two doing still in bed?” she demanded.

“ _Cordelia!”_ yelped Rupert, clutching the bedsheets further around them. “We’re—”

“Ugh, get _over_ yourself, I do not have _time_ to freak out about seeing my _engaged teachers_ naked in bed together and I am not _going to_ freak out about it,” said Cordelia reprovingly. “It’s not like this is _news_ to me. If Buffy likes to pretend you two don’t have a sex life, that’s _her_ business—”

“Cordy?” said Jenny in a strangled voice, doing her best not to just start giggling. “Please leave.”

“Areyou two going to get ready if I do?” said Cordelia. “My itinerary says you two have to be ready in an _hour,_ and it’s going to take me _half that_ to do Jenny's makeup, so if you guys decide to start macking on each other again—”

Rupert threw a pillow at Cordelia. She yelped, retreating, and shut the door behind her.

“Mature,” said Jenny.

“I am never going to live this down,” said Rupert wryly, awkwardly untangling himself from the sheets. He kissed her, then crossed the room to don his robe. “I’m going to go shower—”

“I can come with you,” said Jenny helpfully. At Rupert’s look, she said, laughing, “I’m _not_ trying to proposition you! It’ll save time _and_ water. I can be responsible.”

Rupert rolled his eyes a little bit in that way that meant he’d acquiesced, then said, “As long as Cordelia doesn’t decide to break down the bathroom door.”

Jenny wrapped the sheet around herself, peeked out into the hallway, and winced. Xander’s bedroom door was open, and Cordelia was tying his tie. Faith’s bedroom door was _also_ open, and Jenny could hear Buffy and Willow giggling about something inside. Crossing the hallway to get to the bathroom was going to be—

“Fuck it,” said Rupert, and grabbed Jenny’s hand, towing her across the hall. Jenny heard Buffy’s mortified shriek, and Faith’s delighted laugh; she managed a sheepish wave in their direction before Rupert had tugged her into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. Divesting her of the sheet, he scooped her up in his arms, then said, “You know, I’m well aware you said _you_ can be responsible, but perhaps I _can’t—”_

“NO SHOWER SEX,” shouted Cordelia from the other side of the door.

“THIS IS MY HOUSE AND MY WEDDING DAY,” Rupert shouted back, putting down Jenny to take off his robe.

“I HATE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH!” shrieked Buffy’s slightly muffled voice.

“Rupert,” said Jenny, fighting off more giggles, “I _really_ don’t think that this is the best reason for our wedding to run late.”

At the word _wedding_ , Rupert gave her this big, boyish, _joyful_ grin the likes of which she’d _never_ seen on his face before, pulling her into the shower and turning on the water. “We’re getting _married,_ ” he said. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” said Jenny, smiling back. “I don’t usually get this lucky.”

* * *

They didn’t _actually_ have shower sex. Cordelia had been loud and intrusive, but she’d also been right: time really was of the essence. They showered quickly, and while Rupert shaved, Jenny wrapped herself in a towel and slipped back across the hallway to change into her wedding dress.

Willow was sitting on the bed, her hair curled and her makeup very clearly done by Cordelia. She had a few little butterfly clips in her hair, but her dress was simple and yellow—not at all like Cordelia’s adorably ostentatious cupcake dress. Jenny felt _very_ glad that she and Rupert had just let the kids wear whatever they wanted; it felt nice to be surprised.

“Cordy said this part’s the maid of honor’s job,” Willow said shyly, gesturing towards the slip and overdress laid out on Jenny’s bed. “But I think she’s gonna come in and do your makeup. She seems really excited about that.”

“Give me a sec to get out of this towel,” said Jenny, and Willow obligingly covered her eyes.

Jenny turned to the bureau. She donned a bra, and underwear, and then slipped on her engagement ring, feeling the warm _hum_ of Rupert’s family magic as she did so. She’d never owned a family heirloom of her own; having Rupert’s to wear made her feel like she was _finally_ part of one.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“I’m mostly decent,” Jenny agreed.

Willow opened her eyes, then smiled, a surprised, wide-eyed little grin. “I like your bra!” she said. That made Jenny laugh. “So slip first?”

“Slip first,” Jenny agreed, and Willow got up, handing Jenny the slip. Jenny tugged it over her head.

The overdress was sheer and peach, with wide elbow-length sleeves, a high neckline, and adorned with clusters of embroidered flowers. Like the slip, it ended at her feet. Willow buttoned it up at the back, stood on tiptoe to fluff Jenny’s hair up a little, sniffled, and started to cry.

“Oh, sweetie, we aren’t even halfway done,” said Jenny with a gentle laugh, pulling Willow into a hug. “Cordy still has to do my hair and makeup, remember?”

“But I’m just so _happy!”_ Willow sniffled. “Giles is going to be so _good_ to you! And he makes you _so_ happy and it makes _me_ happy ‘cause I remember last summer when you _weren’t_ happy and now you _get_ to be happy and  _he_ gets to be happy—”

“Everybody’s happy,” Jenny agreed, kissing the top of Willow’s head.

“ _Not_ me!” said Cordelia. “I am _not_ happy! Jenny, you are _fully dressed_ and you _haven’t_ come to me for hair and makeup? Do you _want_ to look all shower-sexed in the wedding photos?”

 _That_ reminded Jenny of something incredibly important. “Give me a second, Cordelia,” she said, letting go of Willow to duck into the adjacent study. She’d hidden it in her lower desk drawer, and she hastily pulled it out—it wasn’t as impeccably wrapped as Rupert’s present to her, but it would have to do. Stepping back out into the bedroom, she set her gift to Rupert down on the bed. “Willow,” she said, “as my maid of honor, your job is to keep this safe.”

“Is that for _Giles?”_ said Willow, and started crying again. “That’s so _swe-e-et—”_

To Jenny’s surprise, Cordelia rolled her eyes a little, crossed the room, and pulled Willow into a quick, awkward hug. This surprised Willow so much that she abruptly stopped crying. “Weddings make everybody soft,” said Cordelia, patting Willow’s head. “But I gotta steal the bride to make sure Giles gets all _moony_ when he sees her.”

“He _always_ does,” said Willow, grinning.

After Jenny had put on her shoes, Cordelia tugged her into Faith’s room, sitting her down on the bed next to Faith and Buffy. “Buffy?” she said. “Lipstick.”

“Aww, _Jen,_ ” said Faith, and then _she_ started crying.

“Oh my _god,_ ” said Cordelia, “what _is_ it with all of you? Seriously, it’s like _none_ of you have _ever_ been to a wedding before!”

“It’s _Jen’s_ wedding,” said Faith, and buried her face in Buffy’s shoulder, sniffling.

Buffy patted the top of her girlfriend’s head with a wryly amused expression, leaning forward to hand Cordelia the lipstick. As Cordelia sat down in front of Jenny and began to carefully apply the lipstick, Jenny felt Buffy begin to brush her hair. “So we’re going for the fairy-princess look, right?” said Buffy.

“Um—” said Jenny.

“She’s asking me,” said Cordelia.

“Cordy,” said Jenny, “it _is_ my wedding.”

“ _Please,_ ” said Cordelia. “You would have been _perfectly happy_ to cuddle with Giles all day if I hadn’t kicked you two into high gear.” To Buffy, she said, “Brush it out, get it all fluffy, and then get the flower crown from my bag. It’ll look _perfect_ with the dress.”

“ _Wow,_ Ms. Calendar!” Willow gasped, stepping into Buffy’s room and sitting down on the floor in front of the bed. “You look so _nice!”_

“How ‘bout me?” said Buffy playfully, fluffing out her baby-blue skirt.

“Picturesque,” said Willow, grinning.

Faith raised her head, sniffling, and rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her tuxedo jacket. “Shit,” she said. “No one saw that, right?”

“Nobody,” Jenny agreed.

“Jenny, if you _move_ your  _face_ your _makeup will smudge,”_ hissed Cordelia.

“Is my girlfriend terrifying everyone?” Xander asked, sticking his head in. Cordelia looked up, eyes flashing, and he said very loudly, “Now seems like a good time to remind everybody that I pooled my savings to buy Cordy first-class tickets to Paris—”

“That won’t work forever,” said Cordelia, but her face had already softened. “Get in here, Harris, and tell me how Jenny looks.”

Xander stepped inside, then grinned a little. “Man,” he said. “If you weren’t my teacher—”

“Stop right there,” said Jenny.

“Good call,” said Xander sheepishly. “But you, uh—” He blew out a breath, then said, “Giles won’t know what hit him.”

* * *

Giles _didn’t_ know what hit him. He had been perfectly prepared, he thought, completely and entirely ready for the moment when Jenny stepped into the little outdoor pavilion—and then she _was_ there, in a simple, floral wedding gown, wearing a delicate crown of blossoms, dark hair falling in soft, graceful waves to frame her face. She was looking at him like she couldn’t quite believe he was there, and all of a sudden—

All of a sudden, Giles felt just as knocked sideways as he had over a year ago, when he’d come back from summer vacation to realize that Jenny Calendar was perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever met, inside and out. It felt like he was seeing her for the first time all over again, like her place in his life had found a new context—or perhaps she had just always been this, to him. Whatever he was feeling, it felt too deep and too strong to be new.

They’d agreed, beforehand, to walk down the aisle together. Thankfully, he had enough presence of mind to extend his arm to her, and when she tucked her small, elegant hand into the crook of his elbow, it felt _right._

“You look very dapper,” Jenny said softly.

“I love you,” said Giles, who really couldn’t think of anything beyond that. Jenny’s cheeks colored, her smile blossomed, and he felt a rush of warmth. “Shall we, then?”

Jenny stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, and then they began to walk.

The children were already gathered around the justice of the peace, Cordelia snapping photos of Giles and Jenny. (“We really should pay that girl,” said Giles nonchalantly, which made Jenny start giggling and nearly drop her bouquet.) When they reached the altar, Giles squeezed Jenny’s hand, then stepped back to face her, heart pounding. He couldn’t quite concentrate on what the justice of the peace was saying; all he could think about was the fact that somehow, impossibly, _he was getting married._ And to _Jenny._ He felt as though some sort of supernatural disaster _had_ to happen at some point, or perhaps Ethan might come charging in and ruin everything, because a moment this perfect, a woman this _wonderful—_

“Now, I believe you two have prepared your vows?” inquired the justice.

“Alphabetically,” said Giles, “she goes first.”

“Nerd,” said Jenny, giving him a lopsided, teary smile. “Okay. Um.” She took a steadying breath, closed her eyes, opened them again, and said, “Rupert, I know we both like to make lots of jokes about how set in your ways you were before you met me, but if _anyone_ was rigid and inflexible, it was me before you. I was so _sure_ that I would never want to put down roots _anywhere,_ but I met you and…” She laughed, soft and wobbly. “You make me so _ridiculously_ happy,” she said. “Just being around you, knowing that I get to be _with_ you—you’re my partner, and my best friend, and I’m honestly just the happiest I’ve ever been, thinking about us having a life together.”

Never had Giles dreamed that anyone would say that while looking into his eyes. That the thought of being with him would make them _happy—_ he reached out, placing his hands over Jenny’s where she held the bouquet.

Jenny smiled. “Yeah,” she said tenderly. “So. I promise I’ll always be there to hold you.”

Really, Giles thought, that was _all_ he’d ever wanted.

“Mr. Giles?” said the justice.

Giles sniffled, then cleared his throat, reaching up to clean his glasses. Jenny let out a sobbing, affectionate giggle, watching him with bright, wet eyes—which made it rather difficult for Giles to compose himself. But he managed—just barely—and began.

“You know I grew up in rather difficult circumstances,” he said, eyes on Jenny’s. “You know I was told from the very _moment_ I was sent off to the Academy that I would never have a life outside my calling. You know I rebelled, and I imploded, and I locked myself back into a job I could never really let myself love, because I told myself that my heart would never lead me to the right place. I decided that following orders would be safest, that trusting authority would be best, and that my instincts, whatever they were, would always, _always_ be wrong.”

“Oh, god,” he heard Buffy whisper to Willow, “he really is gonna make me cry, this is terrible, my mascara isn’t waterproof—”

“Rookie move,” said Cordelia, handing Buffy a tube of mascara from her purse.

Giles and Jenny exchanged a smile— _that_ smile, the one that Giles loved sharing with her, the one that meant _good lord, our children are terrible/wonderful—_ and he continued, placing his hands back over hers. “And then I found you,” he said gently. “You very cheerfully upended all my preconceived notions about love being something that impairs one’s judgment—because love, Jenny, has been the driving force behind all the best things that I have done since meeting you. Being with you has made me braver, it has made me smarter, and it has made me _happier_ than I ever dreamed I could be.” He gave her a small, lopsided smile. “I promise that I will never doubt my own heart again,” he said, “that I will _never_ leave you when you need me, and that I will always be there to protect you and our children.”

 _“We’re_ their kids!” Willow wailed, and started crying all over Oz.

Stepping deftly up to the altar, Buffy held out a tiny pillow with two wedding rings. _These_ weren’t heirlooms; Giles and Jenny had decided that it felt important for this part to be new. Giles slipped the ring onto Jenny’s finger, heart pounding as she did the same for him—

He recognized very distantly that the justice was saying something, but really all that existed in that moment was his wife’s stunned, shaky smile. His _wife,_ Giles thought, feeling a rush of elation the likes of which he had _never_ felt before, because he was going to be _with_ her, they were _never_ going to be lonely again—

Jenny stood on tiptoe, gripped his lapels, and pulled him into a kiss. And the whole world melted away.

* * *

“Calendar-Giles,” Buffy was saying through a mouthful of cake. “Calendar-Giles, Calendar-Gi—yeah, I can’t do it. It’s too much of a mouthful to call Giles that all the time.”

“I’m serious about calling you Mr. Calendar,” Faith informed Rupert.

“Oh, I’d expect nothing less,” said Rupert, who had decided that thinking of himself as _Giles_ when his surname now reflected his wife’s was _much_ too much of a headache. Returning to his given name—having someone in his life who _used_ it—felt unusual, and wonderful, and new. “I _did_ want to take Jenny’s name, but she didn’t like the idea.”

All eyes went to Jenny. “ _Seriously?”_ said Buffy. “I’d have thought you’d _love_ that!”

“I mean, yeah?” said Jenny, making a frankly adorable face and waving a hand. The Giles family ring sparkled. “But _Jenny Calendar’s_ a fake name. I kind of wanted to take _Rupert’s_ name, but _he_ didn’t like the idea.”

“Wait,” said Xander. “ _That’s_ why you guys hyphenated? Because you two wanted to take _each other’s_ names?”

“Couldn’t you just switch?” Willow suggested.

“ _No,”_ said Buffy. “That is _so_ confusing! We’d be calling Jenny _Mrs. Giles_ and Giles  _Mr. Calendar?_ Next you’ll tell me that Giles is the one teaching computer science and _Jenny’s_ the one in the library!”

“I _did_ scan the Books of Ascension as Jenny’s wedding present,” said Rupert, grinning a little.

 _“Oh,_ that reminds me!” said Jenny suddenly. “Willow, do you still have—”

“On it,” said Willow, digging in her bag and handing something across the table to Jenny.

Jenny took it, then turned to Rupert, pressing it gently into his hands. “Happy, um, now-iversary, I guess,” she said, smiling.

Rupert looked down, and saw that he was holding an embossed leather book, with gold letters on the cover that read _Family Photo Album._ Opening the book to the first page, he was met with—pictures of Buffy, Willow, Faith, Xander, Jenny, _him—_

“I kinda had to call in the yearbook committee for some of these,” said Jenny from next to him, “and the kids made some donations of their own.” As Rupert turned, wordless, to look at her, she gently bumped his shoulder, and said, “Books _do_ have a physicality that computers can’t replicate. I figured putting one together for you might be—”

Rupert didn’t have to hear the rest of that sentence to know it would most likely make him want to kiss her even _more_. He turned her face to his and _did,_ and the wonderful feeling of kissing Jenny was now tangled up with the _wonderful_ feeling of kissing his _wife—_ and it hadn’t changed anything, really, because he’d  _known_ she’d wanted to be with him for good, but now it was _real,_ he had proof, he had wedding rings and photo albums and years of happy memories—

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Jenny beamed.

* * *

Buffy caught up to Giles at the end of the reception, which wasn’t really a reception so much as it was a house party. Everyone else was clustered around picnic tables in the backyard, but Giles had stepped inside, and Buffy, curious, followed him into the kitchen.

Giles was leaning against the wall, smiling softly at nothing in particular. When he saw Buffy, his smile widened, and he motioned her over. She crossed the room to stand next to him, then leaned into his side. “Have you chosen a college yet?” he asked.

Buffy grinned at her shoes. “I, uh, got into Northwestern,” she said.

“That’s _wonderful,_ Buffy,” said Giles, turning to look at her with that proud-Watcher expression that always made her feel _so_ special. “Are you going to go?”

Buffy hesitated. “I mean, it’s nice to know I _can?”_ she said. “But…” She trailed off, looking out the kitchen window. Outside, Faith was playing a game of touch football with Jenny and Xander, heedless of the grass stains on her tux.

“Buffy—”

“Look, I _know_ I shouldn’t just throw college away over some girl,” said Buffy miserably. “But she’s _not_ some girl. She’s _Faith._ And I don’t wanna pack up my life all over again _right_ when things are starting to finally make sense—”

“I was _going_ to say,” said Giles, “that Willow is going to UC Sunnydale.”

Buffy blinked, staring up at him. “What? But Willow got into like _eight billion colleges!”_

“Yes,” said Giles. He smiled a little. “She did. She wanted to stay with her family.”

And the way Giles said it—the pride, the shy wonder—made it pretty clear that when Willow said _family,_ she meant the people in this house. Buffy took this in—that _Willow,_ the smartest person she knew, had chosen family over a fancy college just because she _could—_ and said, “If I went to UC Sunnydale—”

“You’d be seeing quite a lot of us,” said Giles. “Just like always.”

“And if I went off to Northwestern?”

“I’d send you care packages,” said Giles, gently knocking Buffy’s shoulder. “Baked goods. Ranged weaponry.” At Buffy’s smile, he continued, “We’ll still always be here, Buffy, and I include Faith in that statement. Perhaps your relationship to all of us might—change—with the distance, but never think we won’t still be a part of your life if you aren’t physically _in_ Sunnydale.”

Buffy leaned against his shoulder, and he tucked his arm around her.

The new Mrs. Calendar-Giles stumbled into the kitchen, a little pink, flower crown askew. Her wedding dress was smudged with dirt. “Faith tackled me _hard,_ ” she said, laughing. “I am gonna have to talk to that girl about playing a little less rough. How’s it going in here?”

“Buffy got into Northwestern,” said Giles proudly.

“Oh, _nice!”_ said Jenny, and pulled Buffy into a hug. Startled and touched, Buffy hugged her back. “Are you gonna go?”

Buffy opened her mouth, considered—and thought about that Calendar-Giles photo album, the one she’d helped Jenny find pictures for, the one she was  _in._ She kind of wanted to be in _all_ those albums, she realized, even for the small stuff. “I’m heading to UC Sunnydale, actually,” she said, and found herself smiling, because it felt like the _right_ choice. She’d made choices as a Slayer before, but this was the first choice she’d gotten to make for _Buffy_ in a really long time. “Will and I can be study buddies.”

Jenny’s smile softened. “It’s selfish of me, but I’m _really_ glad,” she said, and smoothed down Buffy’s hair. She turned to her husband, then tugged at his hand. “Are you coming out? Xander kind of knocked over the barbecue during touch football, and you’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”

“Oh, _Xander_ did,” said Giles, looking significantly at the charcoal smudges on Jenny’s dress.

“Don’t contest my authority in this marriage,” said Jenny, pulling Giles the rest of the way out the door.

Buffy watched them stumble down the porch steps and stop on the grass to kiss, Jenny all rumpled and Giles a little mussed, both of them looking for all the world like they’d finally reached happily-ever-after. Maybe they kind of _had,_ Buffy thought, because they had the tools to stop the Ascension _and_ their wedding had gone off without a hitch. And gosh, if you’d told sophomore-year Vampire Slayer Buffy Summers that she’d be turning down a prime college to stay in Sunnydale with her _Watcher,_ who was _married to Ms. Calendar—_

 _Mrs._ Calendar- _Giles,_ Buffy corrected herself, grinning.

Faith opened the door, jacket and vest missing, her white button-down stained with grass and dirt. She crossed the room to place her hands at Buffy’s waist. “Hey,” she said.

“I’m not going to college out of state,” Buffy blurted out. “I’m—I’m staying here. With you.”

Faith blinked, then blushed, then _grinned._ “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” said Buffy, letting out a shy, wobbly laugh. “I love you.”

She realized what she’d said a second after she’d said it. Faith’s eyes widened, and then they _softened_ in a way that was absolutely all new. And _that_ was surprising, because Buffy had been pretty convinced that she’d seen absolutely every flavor of soft that Faith Lehane could provide, but—

“You mean that?” said Faith.

“Yeah,” said Buffy. She had been a little scared every time she told Angel—it had felt big and raw and overpowering, and she’d almost gotten lost in it _._ But this thing with Faith, whatever it was, had blossomed slowly and surely, to the point where this moment felt inevitable. Not that scary after all. “Yeah. I love you.”

“Well, _shit—_ ” said Faith softly.

The door opened again, and Willow tumbled through. “Jenny says you’re going to UC Sunnydale!” she shrieked, throwing herself into Buffy’s arms and inadvertently pushing Faith out of the way. Jostled out of the moment, Buffy winced, hugging Willow. “That’s so _amazing,_ we can take the same _classes_ —”

Over the top of Willow’s head, Buffy saw Faith, watching her with a tiny, delighted grin. Covertly, but _very_ clearly, Faith mouthed _I love you too._

**Author's Note:**

> to celebrate my birthday: a calendiles wedding fic!!
> 
> MUCH more braveryverse fic in the works :D


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